


If You're Hurting, Please Show It

by Lichinamo



Series: Unconnected SAF Stories [7]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe-Modern Setting, Chains, Electrocution, Hurt/Comfort, I can't tell you how much shit this boy is gonna go through in the first chapter, Kidnapping, M/M, Owen and the DMA are two different people, Owen is gonna spoil the shit out of him, Tags to be added bc yall know I'm bad at tagging, Torture, Whipping, Whump, hurt then comfort, mentioned torture, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/pseuds/Lichinamo
Summary: Curt didn’t know how long Master had him, but he knew it was a very long time.---------------------A kidnapping whump fic
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: Unconnected SAF Stories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888417
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

Curt didn’t know how long Master had him, but he knew it was a very long time.

He did not know Master’s name. He wasn’t allowed to know- and if he called him anything other than Master, he was punished.

The collar scratched his throat. It was hard to breathe. The shackles on his wrists dug into his skin, chafing and cutting him enough that if he moved the wrong way he’d start bleeding again. The chains attached to each shackle- and the one on the back of his collar- was all the restraints he had. It was all he needed; he was too weak to move.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Curt strained to try and pull himself up into a proper position. It wouldn’t do if Master saw him like this. He’d get angry.

The door creaked open as Curt was trying to scramble into a proper kneeling position. Head down, knees spread, yank your chains down so your palms are flat to the ground-

Master was standing before him now. He didn’t say anything, so Curt wordlessly kissed his shoe. Maybe, maybe Master would take pity on him, see that he was being good-

Curt’s jaw burned, and he distantly realized that Master had kicked him.

Curt failed to suppress a whimper, tears leaking from his eyes.

“God, you’re so pathetic, Pet.” Master’s voice was harsh, unforgiving. Curt hated it almost as much as he hated Master. “Do you remember when you first got here? You were all mouth. It took me almost two days to get a single sob out of you, and now here you are. Weeping like a baby at the littlest kick.”

Master was moving around the room, probably setting up today’s torture. Curt kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see it. Besides, Master never liked it when Curt looked at him.

“You’re going to count your lashes for me, Pet, do you understand? And you know what happens if you lose track.”

Curt nodded, biting his lip as Master moved him into a whipping position, pulling him up by his shackles and suspending him from the ceiling. He could be good. He could.

The whip cracked against his back- which was still raw from his last beating- and Curt said, “One, Master.”

Crack. “Two, Master.”  
Crack. “Hh- Three, Master.”

Curt tried to suppress his tears as the whip cracked against his skin. He could be good. He could be good.

They were at nine when Curt let out a sob.

“How many lashes, Pet?” Master was detached, uncaring. He always was.

“I- I-” Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed, gasping desperately for air that would never come. “I don’t know, Master.”

“Hm. Better for you to admit to it than lie to me.” Master put down the whip and walked away, presumably to get another torture device.

Curt peeked his eyes open and stared down at the ground. He saw blood beginning to pool below him, and if he tried hard enough, he could graze it with his toes. That was the most amusement he could get here.

Master came back, and Curt stilled. Master couldn’t know that Curt had moved. He wouldn’t like that.

Curt felt Master’s hot breath on his face and tried not to flinch away. “I hope this reminds you of your place, Pet.”

A pronged item stuck into Curt’s side, and electricity coursed through him.

Curt screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Footsteps, again.

Was Curt bad? He didn’t think he’d been bad. He’d tried really, really hard to be good.

But. . . it sounded like there was more than one person. Curt frowned as he tried, desperately, to kneel.

The door burst open, and Curt was trying so, so hard to kneel, his body was shaking with the effort of it, and there were voices yelling and he was so confused and what is going on, where’s Master, where’s Master-

Hands were touching Curt, examining his wounds- his new wounds, his old wounds, all of them- and poking at his shackles, prodding his collar, and Curt let out a _scream_ of distress. He didn’t want them to touch him.

Curt tried, valiantly, to twist away from the unfamiliar hands, sobs making their way out of his throat, but it was no use. They weren’t as rough as Master could be, but they weren’t gentle by any means.

“Lewis, maybe we should leave him alone, at least until EMS arrives. This guy looks like he’s hurting.”

Curt nodded weakly, trying to encourage them to take that route. Please, just leave him be, he could deal with the pain on his own.

Curt hadn’t realized he’d begun slipping into unconsciousness again until there was a new pair of hands handling him. This one was softer, kinder, like they were meant to treat an injured person.

Curt’s chains were falling away now, and he had to focus to hear what the person was saying. “Hey there, bud. My name’s Pat, I’m a paramedic. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Curt couldn’t do anything but groan and nod, his head falling weakly against Pat-the-Paramedic. He felt woozy.

“Stay with me, buddy, stay with me. Do you remember your name?”

That was a silly question. Of course he remembered his name.

Curt swallowed as he realized he had something very, very important to tell the man. So, in a rare moment of lucidity, he lifted his head, looked Pat-the-Paramedic in the eyes, and said,

“My name is Curt Mega and I am an agent for the CIA.”


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently Curt had fainted after he had told Pat-the-Paramedic his Very Important piece of information, because the next thing Curt knew, he was on a stretcher.

It was so soft. Curt couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on something soft.

Pat-the-Paramedic was laying a blanket over him, saying something about ‘keeping him nice and warm’, but Curt could barely hear him past the ringing in his ears.

Curt was vaguely aware there was something covering his mouth and nose, and went to touch it.

Pat-the-Paramedic stopped him, and held up a small flashlight, shining it in Curt’s eyes. He was talking again, but Curt still couldn’t hear him.

Especially not when there was a concerned voice yelling in the distance, arguing with the cops.

“Sir, this is a crime scene, I’m going to have to ask you to leave-”

“I’m MI-bloody-fucking-6, now _let me see him!_ ”

Curt frowned and started muttering, “Owen. Owen. Owen.”

“The police will find Owen for you, bud, don’t worry,” Pat-the-Paramedic assured him.

But Owen was here now. And Curt wanted him _now._

Curt tried, valiantly, to sit up, to try and get Owen’s attention. He couldn’t see his partner, but then again, he could hardly see anything past the stretcher. He raised his voice as loud as he could and used all his energy to shout, “ _Owen!_ ”

Pat-the-Paramedic was trying to get him to lay back down, but Curt didn’t care. He needed- he needed-

Curt could see Owen now, running to him, eyes wild, and Curt let himself collapse back against the stretcher. 

Owen was here. Everything would be fine.

Owen’s hand was in his, gripping it tightly, and Curt was distantly aware that Owen was babbling away at him about how worried they’d all been, how worried _he’d_ been, how he loved Curt so much. Curt let his partner’s voice wash over him like a wave.

For the first time in weeks, he felt peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think we're done with the Curt torture... you're wrong :) It's just gonna be in flashback form. And not in this chapter

It was too bright. Curt didn’t like it.

Curt scrunched his nose in irritation on instinct before smoothing out his features. Master didn’t like it when he acted annoyed.

“Curt, love? Are you awake?”

What was Owen doing here? He shouldn’t be here, Master would be very upset, Master would hurt him, Curt couldn’t let that happen, please, no, not Owen-

“Hey, hey, love, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Owen’s fingers were carding through his hair, his other hand squeezing Curt’s tightly.

Curt relaxed, leaning into the touch. He’d forgotten that he’d been saved.

“Is it okay if I give you a kiss?”

Of course it was okay. It was more than okay.

Curt nodded just barely enough to indicate that yes, he wanted a kiss very much, and Owen brushed his lips against Curt’s forehead gently. It wasn’t exactly the kind of kiss Curt was expecting, but that was fine. There was time for lots more kisses later.

“You should go back to bed, honey. You must be so tired.”

Curt frowned and tried valiantly to open his eyes. He felt like there were a million little weights attached to his eyelashes, making looking at his partner an impossible task.

Owen made quiet shushing sounds and pressed another kiss against his skin. “Please get some rest, my love. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Curt tried to croak out the word _promise?_ but found he couldn’t speak. His throat was raw.

“I promise.”

Curt let himself relax, focusing only on Owen’s touch, and found himself drifting off quicker than he’d have liked.


	5. Chapter 5

Owen was talking to a doctor.

At least, Curt assumed it was a doctor. They were talking about Curt, and how hurt he was, and how it was very, _very_ bad.

Curt didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. He knew it was bad. Master had told him that the goal was to ruin him. Make him useless.

The day Curt had tried to stand and had fallen flat on his ass, he knew Master had succeeded.

Owen was stroking his hair again, his arm wrapped around Curt’s shoulders, and Curt tried to nuzzle him, cuddle him, just initiate any kind of physical contact-

“Don’t strain yourself, honey,” Owen said softly, bringing his hand down and rubbing his thumb over Curt’s lip. “Save your energy.”

Curt didn’t listen to him, forcing his eyes open so he could gaze up at Owen.

He looked just as beautiful as Curt remembered. The fluorescent lighting haloed behind him, making him look like an angel. Curt’s angel.

Curt weakly reached up a hand, trying desperately to touch his angel’s face, but Owen caught it gently.

“Try not to move so much, love. You’ll tear out your IV.” Owen maneuvered Curt’s arm back into place.

Curt whined a little, wanting- needing- Owen’s touch, but Owen just kissed his forehead and shushed him. “It’s just for a little bit longer, honey, then we can go home and I’ll give you all the cuddles you want.”

Curt knew Owen was lying. Not on purpose- Owen would never lie to him on purpose- but he was lying. Curt was hurt real bad, he’d probably be in the hospital forever.

Besides, it was impossible to actually give Curt all the cuddles he could ever want. Though Owen was free to try.


	6. Chapter 6

Owen tried to break it to him easily, but Curt wasn’t surprised by how bad it was.

He knew it would take a very, very long time for him to walk again- if he ever could. His muscles had atrophied from lack of use.

He’d lost a lot of weight- too much weight, according to Owen. They could count his ribs. He’d developed anemia, too, and that was fun.

That wasn’t even getting into the burns and the constant shaking from the electrocution, the open wounds from the times he’d been whipped. Owen looked at him sadly when he explained it all, but to Curt, it was just life now. Had been for a while.

Owen had decided he was going to take care of Curt. He’d told him that, while Curt was drugged up on morphine, and Curt had hummed and nodded. Owen could certainly try, but he’d probably get frustrated quickly and abandon Curt to his mother.

Curt was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice that the nurse was done taking his IV out until Owen was hustling over to change him out of the hospital gown and into a more comfortable set of clothes.

Curt almost felt like a doll being used in a game of dress-up as Owen threaded his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and tugged his pants on. Owen even had to put the socks and shoes on Curt’s feet.

Owen picked him up gently, easily, to put him in the wheelchair the hospital was lending them until they could get one just for him. Owen must’ve forgotten how little Curt weighed now, because he made a small sound of surprise at how easy it was for him to carry Curt.

Curt tried to relax in the wheelchair, but he just sat there somewhat tensely, head resting against Owen’s stomach as his partner wheeled him out of the hospital. He hadn’t been around so many people in so long, and it was too loud, too bright, he just wanted it to stop-

Owen started humming to try and calm him down, moving at a somewhat brisk pace- not going too fast, as he probably didn’t want to jostle Curt, but wanting to get him home as quickly as possible.

Soon they were at the car, and Curt was only mildly surprised when Owen opened up the door to the back seat and not the passenger seat. He let himself be lifted and buckled into the seat, trying desperately not to wince when Owen accidentally brushed a hand over his bandages.

Owen kissed his cheek gently. “You’re doing so good, honey, so good. We’re almost home.”

Home. That was a place Curt hadn’t been in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

The drive to their house was infinitely longer than Curt had hoped it would be.

Probably because all Curt wanted to do was curl up in his bed and. . . and that was it. That was all he wanted to do. Just curl up in his bed and feel the sheets against his skin.

Finally, finally, they were pulling into the driveway, and Curt could practically hear the angel’s chorus singing from the heavens.

Owen glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m just gonna go unlock the door and grab something from inside, okay, sweetie? I’m not leaving you in here, I promise.”

Curt nodded, but couldn’t help the little shot of fear that ran through him as Owen left the car and headed into the house without him. What if Owen forgot about him? Curt was too weak to stand, let alone walk. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could get the door open, but first he’d have to get his seatbelt off-

Owen came out of the house with a blanket in his arms, and Curt relaxed as Owen came around to get him out of the car.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable like this,” Owen said softly, unbuckling him carefully before lifting him up and swaddling him in the blanket.

Curt nodded again, relaxing in Owen’s arms as his partner held him against his chest. Every time he felt a blanket was a blessing.

Owen carried him in, and Curt didn’t know if he wanted to have his eyes open or closed. It had been so long since he’d seen his own home, but he was just so tired. . .

Owen was carefully placing him down into their bed- _their_ bed- and un-swaddling him before removing his shoes and tucking their comforter and coziest blankets around him. He’d arranged practically all their softest pillows into a pillow mound behind that he set Curt up against in a sitting position, and his frail body practically sank into them.

Owen perched on the edge of the bed, a tender look on his face as he reached over to stroke Curt’s hair back lovingly. “Do you need anything, my love?”

“Just you,” Curt croaked, leaning into Owen’s touch. Apparently the collar and the frequent dehydration had caused his throat to become abused, so speaking was hard. But he needed Owen.

Owen pulled himself up onto the bed and crawled around to Curt’s side. He delicately laid next to him, looking like he wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let him go.

“Hold me,” Curt said softly.

Owen bit his lip. “Are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

Curt didn’t answer the question. “Please.”

Owen closed the gap between them, arms going around Curt and holding him like he was worth the world. Curt closed his eyes and felt his partner press repeated kisses to his head, run his fingers through his hair, do everything to assure himself that Curt was there and okay.


	8. Chapter 8

Curt spent a lot of his time sleeping. He thought it would worry Owen, but he actually encouraged it, said that he needed his rest.

If he wasn’t sleeping, Owen was practically waiting on him hand and foot. If he wasn’t trying to coax Curt into putting something into his stomach- whether it be plain toast or a children’s protein shake- he was gently giving him sips of water from a cup, or tucking, untucking and then retucking the blankets around him.

Curt understood Owen’s need to do this for him. Owen had always gotten fussy when Curt was hurt; when he’d sprained his ankle putting up Christmas lights, Owen practically confined him to the couch for almost four days until Barb had assured him that Curt was fine.

Still, it did get sort of grating, being treated like he was glass. Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t used to positive attention anymore. Intellectually, he knew Owen would never hurt him, but whenever he heard the sound of footsteps approaching or saw his partner turn too quickly. . . 

“Curt?” Owen asked softly, appearing suddenly out of nowhere.

Curt flinched, and Owen’s expression melted into one of concern. He crouched beside the bed and stroked Curt’s hair back. “Are you all right, love?”

Curt averted his eyes and pressed his lips together, not wanting to answer the question.

Owen pressed the back of his hand to Curt’s forehead. “Do you feel sick? Is your tummy upset? Are you too warm? I could-”

“I’m fine, O,” Curt said, forcing a smile on his face. He didn’t want Owen to fret over him.

“Curt,” Owen said in the tone of voice he only used when he was looking right through him, “it’s okay for you to need me.”

Curt closed his eyes, voice dropping. “I just don’t want you to think I’m useless.”

“You’re not useless, honey. Who told you that?”

Curt hadn’t spoken of it yet. The only thing they knew of what he’d gone through was what they had gotten out of-

“Master.”


	9. Chapter 9

Curt knew he’d been repressing his feelings about what happened to him. He just didn’t want to think about it. That wasn’t a crime, was it?

Besides, he hadn’t wanted to make Owen worry even more.

Owen came back, popping a lid on top of a plastic cup. The cup was clear and had two handles on the side, and the lid came out in a thick straw. It reminded Curt of a child’s sippy cup, though he was sure Owen would insist it was a disability aid. Maybe it was.

Owen sat down on the edge of the bed and gently tried to get Curt to accept the mug. “I made you a tea with honey, love.”

Curt stared at the mug, hands shaking. He hadn’t been able to hold anything in ages.

Owen gently guided Curt’s hands to clasp around the handles, making sure not to touch the bandages that covered his cuff wounds.

Curt held the cup close to him, not quite finding the strength to drink from it yet. He avoided looking at Owen. “I don’t want to worry you,” He croaked.

“Curt. . .” Owen reached over and cupped his cheek. “I’m your partner, I’m always going to worry about you.” He stroked his thumb over his skin. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Curt put his lips on the straw, not drinking yet but stalling. What did he say to Owen?

Owen crawled so he was sitting next to him and slowly, very slowly, wrapped his arms around Curt so he was sort of cradling him.

Curt leaned into it, relaxing, and took a slow sip of the tea. It felt nice. It felt really nice.

Curt rested his head on Owen’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Master was very unforgiving.”

“Curt. . .”

“Owen, please.” Curt took a deep breath, focusing on the world around him. He didn’t feel afraid. He felt safe. “Just. . . If I tell you this, you promise you won’t freak out until the end?”

Owen seemed hesitant- his muscles tensed up slightly- but then he relaxed. “I promise, love.”

Curt nodded, sighed, and cast his mind back to the terrible, terrible place. . .

_It had been four days since he’d last eaten. Curt only knew because Master told him._

_“I’d love to feed you, Pet, truly,” Master said tauntingly, standing over him as Curt writhed in pain from the last round of electrocution, “but you’ve been bad.”_

_Curt whimpered pathetically, hunger gnawing inside of him as he spasmed. “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry, I’ll be good-”_

_“I know you will,” Master cooed, crouching down so he was beside Curt’s face. “You’ll be good for your Master. Do you know why?”_

_Curt kept whimpering as Master took his knife and slowly dragged it across Curt’s skin, tracing his protruding bones. “Because if you keep misbehaving, I’m gonna have to get a new pet. A prettier one, I think. What about that sweet little scientist of yours, Doctor Lavernor? Or your boss, Director Houston?”_

_This was a game Master played a lot, keeping Curt in line by bringing up the people Curt loved. Curt just grit his teeth and tried not to let it get to him._

_“I know,” Master said, knife under Curt’s chin, “what about your pretty little partner?”_

_Curt closed his eyes, tears leaking out, and he did what Master wanted him to do._

_He begged._

_“Please, Master, no, not Owen, please-”_

_The tip of the knife dug into his skin, enough to draw blood. “Will you be good for me?”_

_“I’ll be good,” Curt confirmed, just thinking about Owen and how he couldn’t go through this. He couldn’t._

_Master removed the knife, and Curt barely had time to register it before he was quickly electrocuted again._

_He was vaguely aware he was screaming, that Master was laughing, then chiding him for ‘pissing himself like a baby’- had he pissed himself? he couldn’t feel anything- and there was the sound of footsteps, and Master was gone-_

_Curt laid there, in a puddle of sweat, blood, tears and urine, and did his best not to break down again._

Curt’s hair was growing wet, and he frowned until he realized it was because Owen was crying.

Curt placed the cup down in his lap and reached a hand up to touch Owen’s face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Oh, Curt. . .” Owen shook his head, pulling Curt closer so he was practically in Owen’s lap, and he held him against his chest protectively. “That’s not why I’m upset.”

Curt tried to look up at him, but Owen just began peppering his face with kisses. “I’m upset you had to go through that at all, love. That sounds awful.”

Curt shrugged slightly, wincing at the pain it caused, and Owen cuddled him closer. “It’s fine,” He said quietly, trying to deny it was a problem. If he admitted that what happened had upset him, then he had to deal with it. He didn’t want to deal with it. He wanted to forget about it.

Owen sighed and began rocking him back and forth. “Why don’t you go back to bed, honey?”

Curt knew a deflection when he saw it, but he nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Owen take the cup out of his hands, and felt his partner begin to hum a song quietly.

He fell asleep quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m sorry, but he’s napping right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

Curt was roused from sleep at the sound of Owen’s stern voice talking to someone in the distance.

Curt shifted slightly and groaned, trying to figure out who in the world could be trying to see him right now. Owen had very specifically asked their friends and family for some distance so he could get settled back in at home before he saw anyone, so it couldn’t be any of them. . .

Owen came back into the bedroom wearing a scowl that melted away when he saw Curt was awake. “Hey, honey,” He said softly, kneeling by Curt’s bedside. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Curt lied. “Who were you talking to?”

Owen pressed his lips together, looking like he was contemplating lying to Curt, before he sighed. “Some men from the FBI wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

Curt cast his eyes downwards, and Owen stroked his hair back gently. “It’s okay, love. I sent them away.”

Curt closed his eyes. “Get them back.”

Owen’s hand stilled. “Curt?”

“I need. . . I need to tell them now, before I forget.”

Owen hummed in understanding and pressed a kiss to his temple. “If that’s what you want, darling.”Curt heard Owen rise to his feet. “I’m gonna go make you some lunch, and then I’ll call them, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Curt nodded, and Owen placed the remote in his hand so he could turn the TV on if he wanted. He didn’t do that, though; instead he quickly drifted back off.

——————————

Curt awoke to the sound of unfamiliar voices and the feeling of fingers in his hair.

“-just a few questions, is all.”

“If you upset him, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“This is very important-”

“We understand, Mister Carvour.”

Curt tried to sit up and let out a pained sound, and Owen was quickly shushing him. “Hey there, honey,” He practically cooed, hands going under Curt’s armpits and adjusting him into a sitting position. “The FBI agents I told you about are here to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“‘S fine,” Curt said, still tired, eyes half lidded. He could see the silhouettes of the two agents standing at the foot of his bed, and Owen was at his side, having pulled up a chair so he could sit down.

“We have a few questions for you, if that’s all right, Mister Mega?” One of the agents- the smaller one, the one who said it was fine if Owen asked them to leave- said, pulling out a notepad as the other pulled out a recording device.

Curt nodded, trying to wake himself up, and there was a rattling by his side. “I’m sorry, but he hasn’t eaten lunch yet, so if you don’t mind-?”

“Of course,” One of the agents said quickly, and Curt was flush with shame when he realized what was going to happen.

Owen was scooping some Jell-O onto a spoon and feeding it to him slowly, gently, and Curt clutched the blankets in his fists as he tried to focus on the world around him as he robotically explained his experience with Master.

He didn’t think about the pain or the humiliation of it all; he focused on the feeling of the bedsheets on his skin and the texture of the Jell-O in his mouth.

He didn’t know how long he talked to them. They were halfway through the bowl of Jell-O when he realized he was crying, and Owen promptly kicked them out.

Owen was cooing softly at him and wiping his face with a damp washcloth- napkins were too rough on his skin, they’d tried and it had just been somewhat painful- before crawling into bed and wrapping his arms around him.

Curt was vaguely aware that Owen was saying something comforting, but he could scarcely hear it. Was he dissociating? Was that it?

Owen kept cooing at him, shushing him, rocking him back and forth, and doing everything in his power to comfort him. Eventually, though, Curt was so exhausted he just cried himself right to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

“Owen, I want to go on a walk.”

Owen looked up from where he’d been folding laundry at the end of the bed. “Are you sure, love?”

Curt nodded. He hadn’t been out of the house since he’d gotten home, and the prospect was almost scary, but. . . before he’d been taken, he’d liked going on strolls with Owen in the park. It was nice. Relaxing.

He tried to give Owen a reassuring smile. “I think the fresh air will be good for me.”

Owen looked hesitant, but he put the laundry down. “Just let me get your wheelchair ready, okay?” He came around and gave Curt a gentle kiss.

Curt kissed him back and whined playfully when he pulled away. Owen just smirked at him and pecked his nose before heading off.

Curt twirled a thread on the blanket as he waited for Owen. Was he ready, really? The sun in his eyes, people chattering away loudly, maybe even looking at him. . .

No, he could do this. He could.

Owen came back into the room and started taking clothes out of their closet, which he laid on the bed. The shirt, pants, and socks Curt had been expecting; the puffy jacket, scarf and gloves, not so much.

Curt raised an eyebrow at him, which Owen ignored. “Do you have to use the loo before we go?”

Curt blushed in embarrassment. Needing your partner’s help using the restroom wasn’t exactly great for one’s self esteem; though he supposed it was better than a few of the alternatives. “No, thank you, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I don’t believe there are any loos near the park-”

“I’m _fine,_ Owen, you don’t have to worry so much.”

Owen sighed and pulled the blankets off Curt carefully. “I know, love, I’m sorry. Arms up?”

Curt lifted his arms as high as he could without causing pain- which was not very high- and Owen carefully took off his pajama shirt and slipped him out of his pants.

“Do I really need so many layers?” Curt asked as Owen dressed him quickly and snugly.

Owen zipped up the coat before wrapping the scarf around his neck and pulling the hat onto his head. “It’s cold out, Curt. You used to get chilly in this weather before you lost weight. I don’t want you getting frostbite.”

Curt hummed as Owen finished putting his socks and boots on, and Owen scooped him up in his arms before carrying him down to the car.

Owen pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just say the word and I’ll take you home, okay, love?”

Curt nodded and let Owen buckle him into the back seat of the car. Normally they’d just walk there- after all, the park wasn’t far from their home- but Curt understood why Owen wanted to drive there and unload the wheelchair when they arrived.

Curt waited somewhat impatiently as Owen drove to the park, parked the car, and set up the wheelchair before finally helping Curt get settled into it. Owen had decked the wheelchair out with soft cushions so it wouldn’t be too painful for him to sit in.

Owen laid a blanket in his lap and kissed his cheek before pushing the wheelchair on the path.

Curt rested his head on Owen’s stomach, admitting quietly to himself that the layers were probably a good idea- not that he’d ever tell Owen that.

“Any particular path you want to take today, love?” Owen asked, his fingers making their way under Curt’s hat and beginning to play with his hair.

“Can we go by the pond? It’s been ages since I’ve seen water.”

“Of course, my darling. Anything for you.”

Curt nuzzled Owen happily, humming slightly as his partner wheeled him through the park. It was nice, feeling the wind in his face, the sun shining down on him.

What wasn’t nice was the stares he was getting.

Curt’s skin crawled as he felt eyes lingering on him. He saw people look at him and turn to whisper to their companions. One woman even covered her young child’s eyes.

He knew he wasn’t the most appealing sight anymore. He was thin and frail, with almost gaunt cheeks and eyes that nearly bugged out of his head. He didn’t know how Owen was still attracted to him anymore.

Owen dropped his head down and pressed a kiss to the top of Curt’s head, making a _mwah_ sound to compensate for the fact that it was mostly covered by the fabric of the hat. “What’s wrong, honey? I can feel you frowning from up here.”

Curt bit his lip. “People are staring.”

Owen seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Would you like to go home?”

Curt sucked on his bottom lip, contemplating for a moment. “. . . No. I want to go by the pond.”

Owen made a sound of affirmation and kept pushing his chair all the way until they reached the pond.

Curt stared out at the water. It was beautiful.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops in, adds chapter, and disappears to go continue to fail at college*

“You had to know this was coming eventually, love.”

Curt huffed, blushing as he sat on the toilet while Owen ran the bath. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing. I’ve bathed you before.” Owen looked like this was perfectly normal, kneeling beside the tub with his hand in the water to make sure the temperature was comfortable.

“That’s different,” Curt argued. And it was, at least in his mind. In the past when Owen had bathed him, it had been a sensual act that Curt had been capable of reciprocating- and did, frequently. It usually ended with their bodies tangled together in bed, if they even made it there at all. Owen was an impatient lover.

“Curt,” Owen said softly, looking at him with a gentle expression. “Would you do this for me if I needed it? If our positions were reversed?”

“Of course,” Curt said, not even hesitating. What a foolish question. He’d do anything for Owen.

“Would you think seeing me in a position like that would be embarrassing?”

“Of course not,” Curt said quietly, deflating as he realized the point Owen was making.

Owen turned the water off, apparently satisfied with the level and temperature it had reached. “Are you done going potty?”

Curt groaned, going bright red. “Please don’t call it that, O.”

Owen looked at him in amusement. “It’s a yes or no question, honey.”

Curt huffed but nodded, and Owen shuffled his way over on his knees so he could lift Curt off the toilet before hitting the flusher.

Owen settled Curt on his lap for a moment. “Tell me if I hurt you, all right, love?”

Curt pressed his lips together and nodded, and Owen carefully began to undo the bandages that wrapped around his back.

Curt tried to suppress each wince as Owen’s fingers grazed against his wounds- the marks from the whips, the still healing electrical burns- but he knew he did a poor job. He just didn’t want his love to be upset at the prospect of hurting him.

Owen looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, darling,” He said soothingly, brushing his hand against Curt’s cheek. “I’ll make it up to you afterwards, okay?”

Curt nodded again, and Owen slowly lifted him before lowering him into the water. Curt didn’t even bother hiding his pained expressions as the water nearly burned his injuries.

Owen shushed him gently, scooping up a handful of water and pouring it over his hair. “It’s all right, my love, just relax. It’ll be all over soon, and then I’ll do whatever you want to make it better.”

Whatever he wanted? That sounded nice. Then again, there were a lot of things Curt wanted that Owen could never give him. Like the chance to be normal again.

Owen was doing his best to comfort him as he bathed his wounds, but Curt was too out of it to really register it. He wished he could be a better partner to Owen. He deserved better than Curt.

“Can you tip your head back for me, honey?”

Curt obliged and felt water running through his hair again, fingers massaging his scalp. Owen was cooing at him that he was doing such a good job, it was almost over, he was so good.

Curt closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of the water on his skin, the feeling of the washcloth Owen was using to bathe him running over him. Eventually Owen deemed him clean enough, and he drained the tub before wrapping Curt in a fluffy towel- and since when did they have such fluffy towels?- and picking him up.

Owen dried him gently and thoroughly, kissing both his cheeks. “I just have to dress your wounds again, and then we’re done, okay?”  
The way Owen was speaking to him meant that Owen felt like Curt was in a delicate state of mind right now. Maybe he was.

Owen applied the bandages carefully, doing his very best not to jostle him too much, and when he was done he dressed Curt in a fresh set of pajamas and underwear.

Owen scooped him into his arms and stood up, kissing him softly on the lips. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Anything at all?”

Curt rested his head on Owen’s chest as he was carried back to bed. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Of course, my darling.”

Curt knew he was going to fall asleep before the movie even began. He just knew that if Owen didn’t do something, he’d keep beating himself up over ‘hurting’ Curt, and he couldn’t let that happen.


End file.
